


save the birds, save the bees

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: “Come on, hurry up and fuck a baby in me, Rip.”





	save the birds, save the bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicalWheaten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalWheaten/gifts).



> Emily wanted Lance Lance's conception, so I joked about using a certain line, and now here we are. Enjoy, sinners.
> 
> (Not beta'd cause its that kind of night)

They’re probably going to die in the morning.

The whole team’s captured, stuck in Mallus’ web, Ava along with them because she’d been helping out the Legends. While the Time Bureau was missing in action, stuck running around trying to fix the smaller issues while ignoring the fact that the world was ending around them and that putting Gorilla Grodd back where he belonged wouldn’t change that.

All that was left was Sara.

Well, Sara and Rip.

She supposes it’s fitting. It was always going to be them in the end. She’d known this. Though when she pictured her  _ end  _ with Rip it was more heroic, a battle raging around them, as she died for the final time.

Not drinking in her office while they fail to come up with a solution to fix this, and instead blame each other for every mistake along the way. 

“I was trying to save you, to save the  _ team _ ,” Rip insists.

Maybe he’s had too much to drink, because when he pushes up from the desk -  _ her  _ desk now, because she’s the Captain of this ship -  he seems to sway a little bit as he crosses over to her. 

“You knew this was coming,” Sara insists, because that’s the part that always gets her. That Rip  _ knew  _ they were all going to die and he never said anything. She’s not sure if knowing would have made any of this easier. Maybe it would have meant not holding back. To taking chances with the knowledge that every moment was leading up to her last. To kissing people that she wanted to kiss because she cared about and not just because they were there and interested. 

“I was trying to save everyone.” 

“Good job you’ve done,” Sara says, gesturing around them at the empty ship. “Maybe if you had told us-”

“There are rules to time travel-”

“Like I don’t know that,” she snaps, harsher than she intended. 

But for a brief second, it’s worth it to see the hurt look on his face.

_ Good _ , a part of her thinks, because she’s been hurting too. 

Hurting for her team.

Hurting for herself.

Hurting for them. 

Hurting for  _ him _ . 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” he says, quieter now, but he’s close enough that she can hear him.

Close enough that she can reach out to him, to hold onto the lapels of that stupid Time Bureau suit that she’s always hated, and tug him towards her. “You don’t know that.” 

She kisses him.

She’s not certain why.

Maybe it’s because they’re going to deny tomorrow and she doesn’t want to spend her last night like this, drunk and alone, with a million regrets between them. 

Maybe it’s because she should have done this years ago. 

A part of her wonders why they hadn’t. Why she hadn’t ever crossed the space between them, the gap that has always been there, always a welcome opening. Why was it only now when the world might end, why she wants to punch him more than kiss him, that it feels so natural to do so.

A part of her can only think  _ finally _ . 

Kissing Rip is easy, the same way kissing so many other people had been, but there’s something different here. It’s fixing their problems not with words but with bodies. They’ve always been in sync in battle, so it’s no wonder that their bodies move in a similar fashion. A natural push and pull. An inevitability. 

They were always meant for this. 

She suddenly needs more than just his mouth.

She needs him inside of her. 

She needs to remember how to feel real. 

She pulls back from kissing him, to say, “Fuck me,” into the space between them.

When he kisses her again, with renewed passion, she works at getting that terrible suit off of him. It’s not the first Time Bureau suit she’s pulled off of a partner. If by some miracle they survived tomorrow, it probably not the last knowing her habits. 

They move apart so that Sara can pull her sweater off over her head. She works on undoing the rest of her clothing, shrugging now her jeans, and undoing her bra easily and quickly. While Rip works on taking off his suit.

Something that is a much longer process regardless of the fact that Sara had helped him get started.

He’s carefully undoing the buttons on his shirt. Something Sara thinks that another time she might have found endearing. But this wasn’t another time. This was now and she was desperate and needy -  for something, for someone, for  _ him _ .

She runs a hand down her body, before pressing two fingers up against herself. 

Slipping them inside, because she needs this, and if he was going to take forever well then, she could always take matters into her own hands.

“Come on, hurry up and fuck a baby in me, Rip.” 

That gets him to stop, pausing in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. He stops then to stare at her, his shirt half undone, his pants off, hand messy from where her hands had been running through it a moment before. A look of confusion on his face that is almost  _ cute  _ thought applying the word to Rip of all people seems wrong, though that look shifts to something a bit more desperate when he takes in the sight of her there. Naked, leaning against the bookcase, fingers pressing up inside of herself. 

Rip stutters as he speaks,  “I - What?”

In another life -

In another time -

She might have,  _ they  _ might have, but there was no dwelling on that now. 

“Fuck me,” she says again. 

“That’s not - you said - I,” he stops, before shaking his head at her. “You were trying to get my attention?”

“I was trying to get your attention,” she repeats in confirmation.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“We’re dying anyways,” she points out. 

That seems to be enough for him, because he rushes over the last few buttons, careless and desperate in his need to touch her. She understands. Desperate in  her own need to be touched. 

It feels almost right, his hands on her body, taking the place of her hand.

He presses two fingers up into her, letting out a hiss when he feels how wet she is, and Sara shifts on his fingers, needing more that what he’s giving her.

“That’s not fucking me,” Sara points out.

There’s a little grin there for a second, at the edge of Rip’s lips, and it feels so much like old times that it hurts. 

She ignores that ache, and focuses on her  _ needs _ . 

“Condom?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Sara insists, because it  _ doesn’t,  _ not when it was almost guarantee that they wouldn’t survive tomorrow. 

“Sara-”

“I need you,” she says, to take the doubt from his face, “Rip, I need you to fuck me.” 

He does.

Finally he does.

He removes his hand, and presses up inside of her. It’s tight and pressure, and it’s been far too long since she’s been with a man. He does not need much encouragement before he moves. Pushing her back against the bookcase with each thrust, so that it digs into her bare back. He’s not rough enough, not the way she usually likes, but he’s something.

“Harder,” she says, encouraging him, because she needs more, “Faster.”

She kisses him, because it is easy. Because it is something to do. Something to make her forget about the rest of the world, about the whole of time, about what the morning will bring, about the people they’ve become. 

She lets herself get lost in it.

Kissing him until she forgets how to.

Focusing on the feeling of him.

The way her works her body as if they’ve done this many times before. Rather than it just being the first time. Rather than it just being the last time. 

She loses herself. The way she’d wanted to. The way she’d needed to. She loses herself so that all she knows is the feeling of Rip against her, inside of her, bringing her enough pleasure that she forgets the pain that has been consuming her for far too long.

And when she falls, it’s like no other fall she’s experienced before.

The infinite. 

The end of it all.

She kisses him, rather than calling out his name, holds onto him for support when he legs feel weak and waits until a few moments later his hips stutter out an imperfect rhythm, his release comes with her name of his lips, a soft hush of a sound against her lips. 

In the aftermath, it feels like something.

Still, and quiet.

A moment when an almost could become something more.

A moment where nothing else matters but the two of them.

A moment that will mean something down the road.

But the moment ends, far too soon, an alarm blaring through the ship.

And Sara can’t help but laugh at it all, still there holding onto Rip, still trying to remember how to breathe, “Time to save the world,” she says, pressing one last kiss to his lips, “Or die trying.”


End file.
